


An Unconventional Marriage

by emesa



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24474835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emesa/pseuds/emesa
Summary: I once read a story in which Lizzy and Col Fitzwilliam ended up together, and I realised I like them as a couple: both social and outgoing - it was only money that kept them from forming an attachment at Rosings.  On the other hand, Elizabeth and Darcy belong together, it would be cruel to separate them.  This story is my attempt to make everyone happy.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18





	1. Back from the Dead

**Author's Note:**

> It has come to my attention that some readers may find this story makes them uncomfortable. Please proceed with caution.

October 1815

Colonel John Fitzwilliam pulled his horse to a stop as Pemberley at last came into view. “Home,” he breathed. His weary gaze swept across the beautiful grounds before searching the many windows of the manor house, wondering which room she was in. Five months away, three of them without any contact...she had probably thought him dead. He couldn't wait to hold her in his arms again, breathe in the scent of her skin, bask in her brilliant smile.

Suddenly impatient, he spurred his horse to a canter before pulling up again in front of the imposing entrance in a cloud of dust.

His arrival had been noticed, of course, and a groom appeared at a run to take his tired mount. As John climbed the wide front steps the door was opened by an aging, somewhat portly man.

“Colonel! How very good to see you, sir!” The butler's usually somber mien was split by a wide grin.

“Hosser,” John smiled back, clapping the man on the back, “it certainly _is_ good to be back.” 

“Do you wish to wash first, sir?” Hosser asked, eyeing John's dusty attire askance.

“No...no. Library?”

“Yes, sir.”

John bounded down the hallways, his fatigue gone. The heavy carved doors were shut. He took a moment for a deep breath, brushing dust from his jacket. He must look a fright, he thought, but they wouldn't mind.

The door opened soundlessly under his hand. His eyes skipped over a number of people - noticing their presence but not bothering to identify them - as he searched for the one he wanted... _there_. 

She sat on a settee, book in hand, dressed in a grey gown. His wife, though none but he would ever call her Mrs Fitzwilliam. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She looked up then, saw him at the door, and her face paled. “John?” her lips formed his name, although too quietly for him to hear.

The book fell to the floor with a loud thump as she stood, still staring at him as if seeing a ghost. “You're alive?”

John tried, and failed, to smile reassuringly at her - it was too difficult as it was to keep his tears at bay. “Yes,” he managed to choke out.

And then she was in his arms, her own wrapped so tightly around him that he couldn't catch his breath, didn't _want_ to breathe if it meant she kept holding him like this. He squeezed her just as firmly, breathing her in. “My Lizzy!”

Another pair of arms joined the embrace, and he heard Darcy's voice rasp out, “We thought you were dead.”

John pulled back slightly. Lizzy's cheeks were wet as she beamed up at him, her brown eyes sparkling, and even Darcy's eyes were suspiciously moist. “I'm very happy to say I'm alive and well.”

Darcy looked him up and down worriedly, no doubt noticing every line of weariness on his face, every spec of dust still clinging to him. “You must want to wash and rest, John.”

“Let me show you to your room,” Lizzy interrupted eagerly. John nodded happily. He'd had the same room at Pemberley ever since it became his home three years ago, but he was certainly not going to turn down Lizzy's company.

They walked silently down the wide hallways toward his rooms. Lizzy's hand shook slightly where it rested on his arm, and tears were coursing down her cheeks again as she looked up at him. Her eyes were full of questions, full of love and longing. “I'll tell you everything, my love,” he said quietly. “Later.”

She followed him into his room, letting the door click shut behind them. “I can't believe you're really here.”

“I've dreamed of this moment for months,” he said, touching the silk of her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Slowly, he leaned closer, his usual confidence having deserted him.

Lizzy smiled, leaning into his touch. “I've missed you so much!”

“Not nearly as much as I've missed you, my love.” He touched his lips to hers, gently at first, then increasingly hungrily, until he had her pushed against the door, every line of his body pressed along hers. Desire ran like lines of fire through every vein in his body.

“We won't have long before my absence is noticed,” Lizzy murmured as he kissed the smooth column of her throat.

John didn't need additional urging. In a flurry of movement he had them both dressed only in their skin before he carried her over to the bed.

*

Elizabeth traced gentle fingers over the new scars, still pink and barely healed. What horrors had he had to endure this time? She desperately wanted to ask him - beg him - to retire from the army, to stay with her, but his sense of duty was too well-developed, and she couldn't face him saying no - again. Instead, she sighed and began to rise. “I must go.”

John tightened his arm around her. “Not yet. I can't be parted from you so soon, Lizzy.”

“I don't wish to leave you, either, John - I could stay like this forever - but you know I must. We have guests.” 

John growled a little, rolling over onto her and kissing her passionately. “I have no desire to be in company.”

“Luckily for you, you have the perfect excuse to stay here; I will say you are recovering from your journey, and have your dinner sent up on a tray. You need not see anyone until tomorrow.”

John sighed heavily. He looked terrible, like he had seen hell. Somehow he had survived the experience, but his soul bore scars deeper than did his skin.

Lizzy wiggled out from underneath him, and shrugged into a robe before gathering her clothes from the floor. “Rest, darling. I will come back when I can.”

She opened the secret panel in his dressing room that led to her rooms, remnant of when the house was first built, when such things were more common.

Her other husband was waiting there for her, of course, settled in a chair in front of the unlit fire. “Oh Fitzwilliam!” She flung herself onto his lap and leaned into him. “He's alive!” She was crying again. Lizzy was sure she had never cried so much in her life as she had in the last three months, first worrying John was injured, then fearing he was dead, now having him back.

Fitzwilliam smiled indulgently at her, wiping her tears away with his handkerchief before kissing her gently. “It is nothing short of a miracle to have my brother returned to us alive. I have thanked God a hundred times in the last hour, and shall thank Him a hundred more before the day is out.”

“You are truly happy, then?” she looked up at him seriously.

“Should I not be? You know how dear he is to me.” He sounded a little offended.

“It's just that…” Lizzy trailed off, realizing how unfaithful what she had been thinking would sound.

“What?”

“Well, you've had me all to yourself these last months…”

“You think I would wish death on John so I wouldn't have to share you!?” He was definitely angry. “Even if John weren't closer to me than any brother could be, I still had to see your pain when we thought he was gone, and _that_ was as hard to bear as his death. I would do anything for your happiness, Elizabeth, you know that.”

“I do, I do. I'm sorry. I feel so unsettled, I hardly know what to think.”

Darcy relaxed, holding her close to his chest and kissing her hair. “I know. Thankfully having a loved one come back from the dead isn't something one has to deal with regularly. Now, let's get you dressed and return to our guests before they think we're horribly rude. Will John be joining us?”

“No,” she said, draping her robe over a chair and pulling a clean chemise out of a drawer. “I told him to just rest tonight. He looks...haunted. I hate to think of what he's been through.”

“I know.” He walked to the window, leaning on its casement as he watched her. “I've been trying to persuade him to sell his commission ever since we married, but -”

“His sense of duty is as strong as yours, Fitz, only his pulls him away from Pemberley instead of toward it. I've tried to convince him, too.”

Darcy shook his head sadly, then came to assist her as she struggled to lace her stays.

“How did you explain my absence?” Lizzy asked as she and Darcy walked arm in arm to the drawing room once she was dressed, this time in a cheerful yellow gown.

“You were overcome at the sudden reappearance of my cousin, and retired to your chambers.”

“Well that's true enough, although it wasn't _my_ chambers I was in.” She grinned up at Darcy, who laughed and squeezed her hand on his arm. Lizzy’s happiness bubbled up inside her, and she was struck, yet again, at how lucky she was to have found, not one, but _two_ men - the best of men - that somehow they both loved her, and accepted that she loved both of them - that the three of them could live together harmoniously and happily. 

“Are you alright Lizzy?” Jane asked as soon as Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam entered the library.

“Yes, thank you, Jane. It is a little overwhelming to discover that Colonel Fitzwilliam is actually alive after so many weeks of fearing the opposite.”

“Indeed. Are you sure you are well? I wanted to be with you in your distress, but Darcy insisted 

Darcy lost track of the conversation as he watched his wife. Her bewitching eyes sparkled with wit and mirth as she spoke with the others, her infectious laugh rang out freely. Everyday, it seemed, he found reason to love her even more.

Her elbow in his ribs brought him out of his reverie with a gasped “Pardon me!”

“I see three years of marriage to Lizzy hasn’t disrupted your propensity to stare at her!” Bingley snickered.

“I apologise for my inattention,” Darcy said, feeling his ears heat. Elizabeth smiled warmly at him and squeezed his hand three times. _I love you_. Embarrassment forgotten, Darcy smiled back and wished he were at liberty to do more than squeeze hers in return.


	2. How it Happened

November 1815

“Please excuse me.” 

Elizabeth rose gracefully and followed the footman out of the parlour. John let his eyes trace her figure as she crossed the room: the dark curls bouncing lightly on her neck, her slender waist, the curve of her bottom…

“Ahem.”

John started and turned back to the room’s other occupant - his next elder brother, James, who was watching him over the rim of his teacup, eyes glinting with amusement. “Am I interrupting, brother?”

John cursed inwardly as he felt his face flush. James had always had the particular knack of getting under his skin. “What were we talking of? Jefferson? It’s a shame he wasn’t able to come with you.” Jefferson was the oldest of the three Fitzwilliam sons, and had stayed in Town as his wife was due to give birth any day.

“He would’ve been an anxious wreck. Lady Grace has indifferent health at the best of times.” James leaned forward a little. “When are you going to marry? You’re already three and thirty, before too long you won’t be able to find a woman willing to have you who is still young enough to give you heirs.”

“Heirs to what? My army salary is enough to keep me comfortable, but hardly enough to support a wife, let alone children.”

“Bah. There are plenty of beautiful - and rich - young ladies out there, eager to link themselves to the Peerage.”

John shook his head, looking down at his own cup of tea. He could hardly explain his situation to James, who had always been an upstanding, moral fellow. He would be cast out of the family before the day was out.

“But I suppose you’re like Jefferson, and want to make a love match. Well, love comes with time, old boy, and you’re running out of that. Just find a girl you can respect, and the rest will follow after you’re married.”

Shifting uncomfortably, John took another sip of tea. “You’re hardly one to dispense marriage advice, James. You didn’t look any further than Sophronia’s family, fortune, or figure before you married her. Did you even bother to get to know her first?”

James waved a hand dismissively. “Wives aren’t meant to be our  _ friends _ , John. Sophie’s dowry allows me to live a life of leisure, and she’s given me two fine children. What more could I ask for? Really, you have such strange views of marriage.”

He should leave it alone, let the subject drop before James turned the tables on him, but still, he said, “What about companionship?”

“That’s what  _ men _ are for. Clubs, shooting, billiards, cards...I often go a whole fortnight without seeing Sophie at all.”

“That must make the marriage bed a little awkward, if you neither care for her nor even want to see her in daylight.”

James laughed. “I suppose it was uncomfortable from time to time in the past, but she knew her duty, and I have my heir and a spare, now. There’s no further need for any discomfort on either of our parts.”

There was a pause as both men nibbled their biscuits and sipped their tea. “I’ve seen the way you look at Mrs Darcy,” James said at last. “Is she the reason you’re not married yet?”

John coughed on the biscuit suddenly lodged in his throat, spraying crumbs everywhere. Red-faced, he gulped down his tea in an attempt to clear his windpipe while James sipped his own unconcernedly.

“She looks at you with favour, too; if you play your cards right I’m sure you could even charm your way into her bed.”

John dabbed at his lips with a napkin, avoiding his brother’s all too knowing gaze, and instead inspected the fine clock on the mantle.

“You’ve already been there, haven’t you? All those lingering looks you two share...My, my.. Who would’ve thought...an affair with our cousin’s wife. Poor Darcy. I imagine his lack of experience in the bedchamber has caught up with him at last. More than once I invited him to accompany me to an upscale brothel - you know Madam Beaufort’s - and even introduced him to a few very beautiful women who were looking for a new protector.” He snickered. “Darcy always looked down his nose at me like I was suggesting he roll around in the mud!”

John stared open-mouthed at the other man. Where was the judgement, the condemnation, for sleeping with Darcy’s wife? Where was James’ rage at his dishonouring their family? Why was he still chuckling over the thought of Darcy being betrayed so egregiously?

James caught sight of him slack-jawed and laughed even harder. “You...you thought I would be like...Darcy...all prissy and upset?” he managed to get out. He took a deep, calming breath. “I suppose I should be. After all, this will bring quite the scandal down on our family when it gets out.”

“How will it get out?” John asked evenly. If James didn’t keep his mouth shut…

“Oh it won’t be by me!” James protested immediately on seeing his brother’s dark look. “Servants talk, though. And what if Darcy finds out? I don’t imagine he’d take it quietly. It’s obvious for anyone to see that he loves her.”

“He won’t say anything.” John muttered absently. They were careful, but if James had picked up on it, a servant could, too. Maybe they should-

“Wait, Darcy  _ knows _ ? He’s  _ letting _ you boff his wife?” James paused, looking sharply at John. “There’s more to this story.”

John sighed. “Of course there is.” He glanced around the room, suddenly nervous about extra ears. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Before changing into riding gear, John went in search of Darcy - he would dearly love to have someone else to help explain and answer all the awkward questions James would be sure to ask - only to discover that he and Elizabeth were above stairs “resting.” It figured.

The two brothers rode in silence along the gravel driveway for a while, until they were out of sight of the house - and far from any unwanted ears. Dark clouds loomed overhead, and the scent of rain lingered in the air; they didn’t have long if they hoped to remain dry.

“Please tell me, brother, what set of extraordinary circumstances led to Darcy allowing you to bed his wife. Is he unable to father children? Do you hold something over him?” James’ tone was unabashedly eager.

John sighed again and wished Darcy were here to help him out. Not Elizabeth, though. He would never want her to be humiliated like this. “I’ll start at the beginning. And please, James, just let me get through it before you say anything.”

“Alright.”

“I first met Lizzy when I was visiting Rosings with Darcy. She was staying with her friend, who had married Aunt Catherine’s rector, so we met frequently. I can tell you I have never enjoyed a visit to our aunt so immensely - Miss Bennet was like no lady I had ever met: vivacious, beautiful, intelligent…” James cleared his throat, and John grinned. “But you’ve met her and know all this.

“As enchanting as she was - is - I knew I had to marry an heiress. We parted amicably, and I thought I would never see her again.

“Fate, however, had different plans. Elizabeth and I ran into each other again in Town, where she was staying with her aunt and uncle. I tried to guard my heart against her, but she brushed past my defences as if they weren’t even there. I fell in love with her, and believed she felt the same, but I had nothing to offer her, and was headed off to a warzone in a matter of weeks.” He looked off over the golden brown fields, remembering the agony he had felt then, not knowing if he would ever see her again, and unable to act on his feelings. He had almost wished that he would die on the battlefield rather than survive the torture of being unable to claim Elizabeth as his wife.

“Somehow I survived. I returned from the Continent unscathed in body and decided to head to Pemberley to rest and recoup my spirits. Imagine my surprise to see Elizabeth there, having stopped over in Lambton while travelling with her relatives. I thought it was my second chance - I wasn’t going to let Elizabeth go again. After living through war, surviving that hell, my previous objections to marrying Lizzy seemed insubstantial. I didn’t need tens of thousands of pounds to live comfortably, all I needed was  _ her _ , and I knew she wouldn’t mind living simply.” 

“Yet she refused you. She must have been more attuned to financial considerations than you believed her.”

“What?”

James’ horse startled as some small creature or other scurried under foot. John shook his head as he watched his brother settle his mount; despite having ridden since childhood, he looked ill at ease on the magnificent thoroughbred. “She married Darcy, John, even though you say she loves you. To love a poor man, but marry a rich one...well, that’s the way the world works. I’m surprised Darcy lets you hang about, or that you even want to stay, after how she treated you.”

“I told you not to interrupt,” John said crossly, guiding his gelding around a gopher hole.  _ He  _ rode effortlessly and elegantly. “Would you like to flounder in your own misconceptions, or shall I finish my tale?”

“By all means,” James said, smirking.

John grunted grumpily, but secretly was glad to be able to talk to someone else about how things really were for him. “Before I was able to offer Lizzy my hand, Darcy confided in me that he loved her. He told me their whole history - plenty of angst to be found there, I assure you - and believed Elizabeth might love him in return, but after all their previous misunderstandings wanted my opinion on the subject before declaring himself to her.

“You can imagine my dismay - could she really have come to care for someone else while I was away risking my life? On the other hand, how could I justify any betrayal I felt when I had told Elizabeth I could not marry her? It was only right that she would move on.

“I observed Lizzy closely, as Darcy asked, and it seemed he had good reason to think she would receive an offer from him with pleasure. However, it was also apparent that her feelings for me hadn’t diminished during our separation.” 

It had been wonderful to stroll the gardens of Pemberley with Elizabeth on his arm, smiling up at him with love in her eyes. It had been agony to see her with Darcy, to see that same look in her eyes when she smiled at  _ him _ .

“Why didn’t you and Darcy settle it in the usual way?” James interrupted his reverie impatiently. “A duel, or fisticuffs, or a card game? Why your...arrangement?”

John shook his head and returned to the present. “It nearly did come to violence - neither of us wanted to give her up - but in the end, we both loved her. We decided to let Elizabeth choose. I thought she would pick Darcy - I knew she wasn’t mercenary, but he had so much more to offer, and she loved him too, after all.

“We managed to gain a few minutes with Lizzy away from her aunt and uncle, and Darcy and I explained the situation.”

“I gather from the way things worked out that she said ‘I want both of you,’ and you agreed.” It was a statement.

“No. Lizzy asked for time to consider, but was called away home before she could give us an answer.”

“Ah, this was three years ago, when her sister ran off with a soldier?”

“You know about that?” 

“I may not be the most observant bloke around, but I don’t have my head buried in the sand.” James sounded offended. “I think Mother mentioned it once or twice when Darcy first announced his engagement.”

“Yes, well, after she left I was called away on military matters, so I couldn’t follow her to Hertfordshire, and Darcy was uncertain of his reception. He said he had business, and no doubt he did, but I still think it was an excuse. You know he hates ambiguity, and I don’t think he liked the idea of Elizabeth turning him down again.”

“Again?”

“Oh yes, Darcy offered her his hand - very badly - when we were all together in Kent. To think, if he had behaved a little better Lizzy may have accepted him then, and where would I be? Doomed to marry an heiress that I could never love the way I love my Lizzy.” He shook his head, dispelling the bleak picture his words had conjured. He really should thank Darcy for being such a snob back then.

“...And?” James prompted, caught up in the story.

“It was over a month before I was free and could convince Darcy that Lizzy would think we had abandoned her if we stayed away any longer. It was immediately obvious to us, when we got there, that she still didn’t know how to answer. When I pressed her, she admitted she loved us both and could no sooner choose than she could tear herself in two. Her pain was readily apparent.

“Darcy and I considered what to do for over a fortnight, while her eager mother pushed her daughters at us in increasingly uncomfortable ways.” He chuckled. “That Darcy stayed, and even managed to treat Mrs Bennet respectfully, proved the strength of his attachment. In the end, we both knew we would do whatever we could to make Elizabeth happy, and requiring her to choose between us was making her miserable. It was the only solution. After Lizzy married Darcy publicly, we found a clergyman willing to marry her to me on the sly.”

They stopped at a creek, the water chuckling over the stones of its bed cheerfully. James watched his horse nibble at the grass on its banks, his forehead creased in thought, before finally saying “It could not be as simple as you make it sound.”

“It wasn’t, at first. In the beginning, there was plenty of guilt on Elizabeth’s part and an abundance of jealousy between me and Darcy. We were all worried about being caught. I...I struggled for a long time as the “secret husband.” Darcy was free to claim Elizabeth publicly - he could take her to the opera, hear her called “Mrs Darcy” or make love to her in his study, and it didn’t matter how many servants overheard them. I, however, could not show any affection beyond what a cousin might feel...it was hard. It  _ is _ hard. But those moments, when it’s just she and I, or when it’s the three of us, and she smiles at me...it makes it all worth it a thousand times over.” He looked at his brother, who was smiling and rolling his eyes again. “I know, I know, I sound like one of those moon-calf lovers in the novels Georgiana likes to read.”

“Tell me this, John, and I will desist from digging into your personal life. For now. Are you happy?”

“Yes,” John smiled broadly. “Here, with Lizzy and Darcy, I’m happier than I ever thought I could be.”

“Even if you had Elizabeth all to yourself?”

“I won’t lie and say that I don’t dream of that from time to time. But even aside from the fact that I’m a soldier, and derive comfort from knowing that Lizzy is safe and loved while I’m away, Darcy makes her happy in a way that I can’t, just like I make her happy in ways that Darcy can’t. And Darcy and I are as close as brothers can be. The three of us are  _ meant _ to be together, somehow. It works for us and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Then that is what I will tell Mother the next time she starts complaining about your marital status. The part about you being happy, I mean, not all the rest.”

“Thank you, brother.”


	3. Flashback

August 1812

Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, casting dappled shadows on the blooms and shrubs of Pemberley’s gardens. It was a beautiful prospect, and entirely lost on the trio seated on a cluster of worn stone benches.

“You must choose between us, Madam.” Darcy’s voice was hard, and his eyes showed none of the warmth she had grown accustomed to seeing in them. He was the haughty and aloof Mr Darcy of the Meryton assembly again. Elizabeth shivered.

Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned at his cousin before turning to her with a smile. “Most gentlemen in our situation would fight a duel, or engage in some ungentlemanly behavior to determine who would win the hand of the lady they both -”

“ _ Win _ ?” Elizabeth’ blood rose to her cheeks in anger. “I am not a horse to be won or lost on a  _ bet _ !” 

“Indeed you are not,” the Colonel held out his palms placatingly. “As you see, Darcy and I are putting the question to _ you _ as to which of  _ us _ you want to have.  _ We _ are the horses here. I hope you don’t lose us at a gaming table,” he added with a grin.

“Shocking! What sort of lady do you take me for?” Lizzy laughed, her ill-humour melting away as Colonel Fitzwilliam gallantly kissed her hand. 

Mr Darcy looked away, his Adam's apple bobbing. Lizzy’s smile slid off her face as she followed his gaze to the greens and browns of the distant woods. How had this happened? Before her stood two of the best men in England and somehow they both loved her.  _ Her _ , impertinent, stubborn, willful Lizzy Bennet. Mr Collins would be appalled.

She looked between the two men, at a loss as to how to proceed. 

Colonel Fitzwilliam, not handsome, but personable, always ready with a smile and a quip, could put anyone at ease. His wit matched hers, and she had never had so much fun as she did with him. He smiled disarmingly at her now, working to ensure her comfort even as the tightness around his eyes spoke of his own distress. She returned his smile, the warmth of their shared love filling her like a heady wine. She had dreamed of being his wife for months.

His cousin was his opposite in many ways. Mr Darcy was reserved, a little awkward, and too aware of his high standing in the world, but he was also  _ good _ . He genuinely cared for others and was deeply involved in a plethora of charitable works. She loved debating a variety of topics with him, and seeing what reactions she could provoke with her teasing was even more rewarding. This past fortnight had done more for her understanding of his character than all their previous encounters, and each day brought a heightened awareness of him and her growing attachment to him. Despite how new her feelings were, they had a sense of gravitas about them; they would only strengthen and deepen with time. The thought of being his wife made her heart beat faster with delight.

Yet somehow she had to choose one of them. Looking between the two men - one plain, still smiling despite the awkward situation, the other excessively handsome face set in grim lines as he stared blankly over her shoulder - she knew whichever way she chose she would cause pain - to one of the gentlemen, and to herself.

“I…” She had no idea what to say. No book on deportment or lesson on propriety had prepared her for  _ this _ . 

“Please accept our apologies for causing you discomfort, Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy said a little stiffly, but his eyes were scorching in their intensity. “I know this must be...unexpected. Take whatever time you need to come to a decision.”

The gentlemen bowed and retreated, leaving Elizabeth in turmoil. Could they both really want to marry her?

“Lizzy!” Mrs Gardiner said, approaching the group along with her husband and Miss Darcy.

“Yes, Aunt?” she replied, struggling to maintain her usual manner.

“Time has gotten away from us again. The Whites are expecting us.”

  
  


“What did Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam want with you, Lizzy?” Mrs Gardiner asked that evening, once they were back in the privacy of their parlour at the inn.

“Nothing in particular - they wanted to ask my opinion on some entertainment they are planning.” She didn’t like lying to her relations, but she couldn’t contemplate sharing the truth of the matter at this point. Her feelings were too disordered.

“They could not ask in front of us or Miss Darcy?” Mrs Gardiner returned, amused. “What type of activity requires such discretion?”

Elizabeth fought a blush at her aunt’s knowing look. “You are mistaken, Aunt. They want to surprise Miss Darcy for her birthday -” Georgiana’s birthday was in the fall, wasn’t it? Hadn’t Mr Darcy said something about it? “-and desired a young lady’s view.”

“Are you so close with Miss Darcy that her guardians would solicit you for advice?” Mr Gardiner’s brows drew together in confusion. They had spent a fair amount of time with the Pemberley party over the last fortnight, but not enough for  _ that _ .

“Oh! No,” Lizzy said nonchalantly, picking at some lint on her skirt. “They merely thought, what with my having sisters Miss Darcy’s age, and once being that young myself, I might have some insight into what a sixteen year old girl likes.”

“Indeed.” Mr Gardiner’s face smoothed, satisfied with her explanation, although his wife still harboured some suspicion. The trio’s discussion had not looked like a light-hearted discussion about a beloved young girl’s birthday - Lizzy had seemed first surprised, then distressed, and the gentlemen had not seemed at ease, either. Whatever it was that had passed between them, Mrs Gardiner could sense her niece’s thoughts were frequently elsewhere throughout the evening, her usual good spirits tempered by introspection. While she wasn’t yet worried enough to press Elizabeth on the topic, she would certainly keep a close eye on her, particularly where certain gentlemen were involved. 

The arrival of a letter from Jane the next morning, however, pushed any thoughts of that confusing interview out of her head.

  
  


“Why are we still here, cousin?” John Fitzwilliam paced the study of Darcy’s house in Town, pausing to glare at the room’s other occupant each time he reached the bookshelves that covered one wall.

“I have business.” 

“Yes, yes, so you’ve said. Is this  _ business _ more important than a certain lady in Hertfordshire? It’s been a  _ month _ , Darcy. She must think we’ve abandoned her!”

“Are you sure you want to pursue her, John?” Darcy asked tiredly, running a hand through his hair. “I told you about her sister.”

“I ought to issue you a challenge for that! I would never act so dishonourably! Besides, what with half the ton knowing about my mother’s numerous lovers, I could hardly be scared off by an elopement, even if it was with Wickham.” John’s mouth twisted in disgust on the name. “Do you mean to say you are having second thoughts about Miss Elizabeth?”

“No! Only…” Darcy strode to the window and looked out over the rose garden. To say it aloud would make it real. Could he bear the pain again?

“Only what, Darce?” John prodded.

He sighed heavily. “I don’t fancy being rejected again.”

“Have you been in communication with her since we were together at Pemberley to be so sure of her refusal?”

“No. After that morning at the inn...no, I have not seen her.”

“About that - why did you go see her without me?”

“I wished to give her a chance to talk to me alone. Ask any questions she might have had. Instead, I came upon her just as she finished reading a letter from Miss Bennet detailing their sister’s ruin. She was upset.”

“I’m sure she was! And you no doubt bungled the whole affair, failing to provide her the comfort she needed, and made her think you were ashamed to be seen with her.”

Darcy sighed again. “No doubt.” He had always had a hard time properly expressing his thoughts and feelings, and without an understanding between them he had felt it better to keep his distance. John was right. He had ruined his chances, however slim they had been to begin with, with the only woman he had ever loved.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” John said, putting a friendly hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “I saw the way she looked at you.”

“Why are you encouraging me? Shouldn’t you be on your way to Longbourn?”

“I don’t want to win by default. We agreed we would let Elizabeth choose which of us to marry, and by Jove that is what we will do!”

“Have I been cruel to you? Taken advantage of your good nature? Why must you insist on submitting me to the torture of Elizabeth refusing me? You’ve heard my whole sorry history with her, you know she only delayed agreeing to be your wife immediately to spare my feelings. She loves you, any fool can see that. Go claim your bride and leave me out of it!” Darcy stalked away from his cousin and stared moodily into the empty fireplace.

There was silence for a few minutes, broken only by the tick tick of the clock on the mantlepiece, and Darcy began to regret losing his temper. It would not do to lose John - his truest friend - in a fit of anger. Even if it meant seeing John married to Elizabeth - hear her called Mrs Fitzwilliam, see her smiles for him, watch her bear his children - Darcy winced in pain at the mere idea - he would do it, to see John happy. To see Elizabeth happy. Their happiness, along with Georgiana’s, meant more to him than anything. More than Pemberley, more than himself.

Turning around with an apology on his lips, he was startled to see John watching him earnestly. “Come with me,” he said.

“What?”

“Come to Hertfordshire with me. Hear what Miss Elizabeth has to say.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m saying this - I should be galloping off to her even now, glad to have you out of the picture and my love in my arms - but maybe I don’t want to marry her if there’s a chance she would rather have married  _ you _ . If she agrees to be my wife, I need to know it was because she wants  _ me _ , not because you chose to hide out in London and thus took away her first choice.”

“You,” he swallowed, “you really think she might choose  _ me _ ?”

John met his incredulity with a level look. “Yes.”

Darcy waited, but John didn’t elaborate, only continued to to meet his eyes with that same serious gaze.

He wanted to refuse, to eject his cousin from his house and get on with the business of pretending he wasn’t dying inside. But what was it that John had said? Something about taking away Elizabeth’s choice. Women had so little control over their lives as it was - always the property of their fathers or brothers or husbands - could he in good conscience restrict her choices even further, when he had already pledged himself as an option? No, he was a gentleman, and he would not go back on his word. Elizabeth had already rejected his hand once. He had survived the experience, and liked to think he was even a better man for it - he could live through it again. For her.

“Very well,” he said at last. “I’ll need a few days to wrap things up here. That will give us time to apply to Bingley, I believe he returned to Netherfield several days ago.”

John grinned broadly and clapped him on the back. Darcy smiled back, relieved, for a few minutes, to have the decision made - until the worry hit him like a fist in the face. How would Miss Elizabeth receive him? They had gotten along so well at Pemberley, but that was only a small drop in the ocean of misunderstandings between them, and then he had responded badly to the news of her sister Lydia, and - even worse! - disappeared. She could justifiably hate him. His only consolation was that John would be with him - John, who was agreeable and sought-after and left everyone smiling in his wake. Bingley, too, was an affable chap, and would help smooth his way.

  
  


John looked around with interest as they rode through Longbourn lands. The fields seemed reasonably prosperous, and the house, when it came into view, was large and well cared for. He was beyond eager to see Elizabeth again. The last month, first on military errands in Ireland, then convincing Darcy to stop being a coward, had been interminable.

“Watch yourself,” Darcy murmured as they approached the front door, after checking that Bingley’s attention was already on a certain lady inside. “Mrs Bennet will take any excuse to snatch you up for one of her daughters.”

John nodded. As the son of an earl, even a penniless one, he was well used to young ladies’ and their mother’s attempts to snare him. He would have been surprised to find Mrs Bennet  _ not _ on the hunt for husbands.

The butler took their hats and gloves, and, an age later, announced them to the occupants of the parlour. At last - Elizabeth! He grinned, anticipating her bright smile and sparkling wit, but when their eyes met, she blushed crimson and looked away, unable to offer even a word in greeting. Dismayed, he glanced at his cousin, who had retreated behind the cold facade he wore in public to deter ‘matchmaking mamas’, as he called them. What pains had she suffered during their month-long absence? And now to face his dolt of a cousin who would not even smile at her! No wonder she couldn’t meet their eyes - she must think they came to rescind their offers of marriage!

Elbowing Darcy in the ribs and giving him a pointed look as they moved to their seats, John set about to put Miss Elizabeth’s fears to rest with pleasant conversation and meaningful smiles. Luckily, Mrs Bennet didn’t insert herself in their discussion, as she was happily absorbed in planning Bingley and Miss Bennet’s wedding. Darcy even eventually unwound enough to add a sentence here and there.

Their conversation was nothing earth-shattering: they spoke of the weather, the state of the roads, and Georgiana’s progress on the piano-forte, but he had the pleasure of seeing Elizabeth’s blushes lessen, and by the end of their visit something even like her usual happy manner return.

  
  


“...and the milliner’s had this truly heinous bonnet, Captain Carter quite agreed with me he had never seen a bonnet less handsome…”

Miss Kitty rambled on, her hand wrapped possessively around his arm as they strolled along a wooded trail not far from Longbourn. John was grateful for Darcy’s warning to leave his red coat at home, as every second word out of the girl’s mouth showed her preference for soldiers. The last two days of polite visits with the Bennets had taught him much about Elizabeth’s family.

“Indeed!” he said, hardly attending to what was coming out of his mouth. He squinted at the couple walking ahead of him, straining to catch a stray word from their lips. Miss Elizabeth’s bonnet prevented him from seeing so much as the tip of her nose, and she kept her voice low enough that not even a murmur reached him. Darcy, on the other hand, was clearly uncomfortable, walking stiffly like he had a branch shoved up his backside - John could hear the words “sorry”, “intention” and “only you.” This would not do! He needed to hear it all!

“...not believe you heard a single word I said!”

John tore his attention away from the other couple and looked down at his companion, who was pouting prettily at him. Her eyes were very much like her sisters. “Forgive me Miss Kitty. I am but a man, easily distracted when so much beauty is before me!” He bowed slightly as he winked at her, making her giggle. “I am at your command, my Lady. What do you wish of me?”

Miss Kitty giggled again, squeezing his arm. My but she was forward! “Will you still be here for the assembly next month? With the regiment gone to Brighton we are frightfully short for partners.”

“I cannot say for a certainty, but I hope so. Mr Darcy and I are here for as long as Mr Bingley desires our company. Perhaps until his marriage.”

“Ah, that is not for another five weeks! You must dance with me!”

“Kitty,” Miss Elizabeth interrupted with a stern glance for her sister, “did you not mean to call on Maria?”

“Oh! Yes!” The girl glanced around, realising that they had already passed the turnoff for Lucas Lodge. “Good day, Sir,” she said as she curtseyed, fluttering her eyelashes at him and smiling coyly.

“Miss Kitty.” Bowing, he repressed an eyeroll. Silly young thing! If Lydia was anything like her it was no wonder she got into trouble.

There was an awkward silence after Kitty left. Elizabeth seemed to be intently studying a rotting log at one side of the path, and neither of the gentlemen knew how to bring up the subject that weighed on their minds.

“Your sister tells me there is to be an assembly soon,” John said, his voice sounding overly loud in the quiet.

Elizabeth laughed. Not her usual, joyful laugh, but one that sounded strangled, and a little wet. When she looked up he nearly flinched at the pain he saw in her magnificent eyes. “It’s no use,” she said.

John felt a sharp pain in his belly at her words. Was she refusing him?

“Please explain,” Darcy demanded. John shook his head. Darcy would never excel at the social graces.

“I…” She looked briefly at the two of them before returning her gaze to the ground, drawing patterns in the dirt with the toe of her boot.

“Lizzy,” John said gently, taking her hand. Slowly, slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his. “Is this our answer?”

“I have no answer.”

“You wish to marry neither of us?”

“I cannot choose!” she cried, a flush rising to her cheeks. “I have tried, these many weeks, to go over all my options, look at every angle! I have spent countless hours examining my heart, and I am absolutely certain of my feelings. Oh, that there were two of me, that I might not have to choose one or the other and so be happy!” She stood silent for a moment, her breast rising and falling rapidly, before she seemed to regret her burst of confidence and blushed deeply, turning away again.

John looked helplessly at Darcy. In all their discussions, this was one scenario they had never considered. “You mean to say you love us both?”

The bonnet moved up and down.

“Would you like Darcy and I to settle it between us whom you shall marry?”

Her head shot up. “Yes!” A wrinkle appeared in her brow. “No.” A sigh. “I don’t know.”

  
  


The ride back to Netherfield passed in silence. Decisive and confident, Darcy was uncomfortable with the current state of affairs. Elizabeth loved him - the thought filled him with joy - but she also loved John. Worse, she could neither decide between them herself nor allow them to decide for her. How was this matter ever to be resolved? His head told him to withdraw his offer and escape with what remained of his dignity, but his heart demanded he stay; he couldn’t leave when there was still a chance. Not when she loved him.

The days passed excruciatingly slowly. They kept themselves at Bingley’s disposal - as keeping him company at Netherfield was their ostensible purpose in coming to Hertfordshire - and most days paid a call at Longbourn. Darcy began to dread those calls. Not because of Mrs Bennet’s increasingly transparent attempts to match him with one of her daughters, although he had always hated being seen as a marriage object, but because seeing Elizabeth was painful. Some days she displayed bright smiles and teasing wit, and his heart was full of pride and pleasure that this amazing creature loved him. More often, however, she was quiet, and avoided being alone with him or John, perhaps out of fear of what they might say. Dark shadows dimmed the light in her eyes, and he knew she was suffering.

“I’ve decided to retract my offer of marriage,” John declared as they sat in a drawing room at Netherfield. Bingley was, of course, at Longbourn.

Darcy looked up from the letter from his steward that he had read at least three times already and still had no firm idea of its contents. “What?”

“Even  _ you _ , unobservant as you are, can’t have failed to notice how miserable she is. If marriage to me is no longer an option, she can forget me and be happy with you. You can give her every comfort than I cannot.”

“You would really give her up?”

“If it made her happy.”

Mulling this over for a moment, he forced himself to be rational. “I’m not convinced it would. She has loved you longer and better than she ever could love me. If it is money that concerns you, know that I will give you whatever amount you name to support her - and yourself - as you see fit.”

“If she really loved me better, as you say, she would have accepted my hand at Pemberley. As for money, I thank you for your generosity, but I do not fancy marrying a woman who is in love with another man.”

“In that case neither of us can marry her! Are you saying we should  _ both _ withdraw?! How would that bring her happiness?”

John sighed heavily. “It wouldn’t. I cannot see the way out of this. Either one of us marries her, leaving the other heartbroken and Elizabeth herself torn in two, or neither of us marry her, leaving  _ her  _ heartbroken and alone, unlikely to be able to marry for love. Why did she have to fall in love with  _ you _ ?”

Darcy smiled mirthlessly. “I cannot account for it myself, although I  _ am _ working to improve myself and thus be worthy of her.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do either. We can’t  _ both _ marry her, and yet that seems to be the only way.”

“Why can’t we both marry her?” John exclaimed, jumping from his seat and starting to pace excitedly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“No...even if we found a clergyman willing, we’d never be accepted in any kind of society...might even have our necks stretched…but we could all live together…” John rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he continued to pace back and forth across the room.

“Might I remind you that Elizabeth is a good Christian woman. She would never consent to any relationship other than marriage. And sit down, you’re giving me a neck cramp.” Despite his irritable tone at John’s horrible idea, Darcy felt a frisson of excitement.

“At least I’m doing more than sitting around glaring,” John retorted as he slumped back down into his chair.

Darcy ignored his cousin, picking at the skin of his lip. They were close, he could feel it. What if one of them married her, and the other lived nearby, as a friend? No, it would be too cruel to force lovers to see each other platonically. It had to be marriage. It couldn’t be too hard to find a clergyman willing to marry a couple without a license. Money smoothed any number of obstacles. But how to protect Elizabeth from scandal? Perhaps- 

“Yes!” John shouted. “That’s it, Fitz!” Darcy coloured as he realised he had been mumbling his thoughts aloud. “She marries both of us, but the world only knows about one marriage. A public husband and a private husband. Elizabeth’s morals are upheld, and all of us get to be with the one we love.” John grinned ear to ear.

“I doubt Elizabeth would agree to that,” Darcy said, fighting against the surge of hope flowing through him.

“Of course she will. She said herself she wants to marry us both. This way she can.” He was bouncing in his seat, the same way he had as a boy after coming up with an inventive prank to play on his brothers.

“It will be dangerous. If anyone ever finds out, Elizabeth will be cast from polite society, as well as any children she may have.”

“I will be discreet - I know all the secret passageways at both Pemberley and your townhouse - avoiding tutors and angry brothers was a great incentive to disappear for a few hours.”

“You plan for us to live at Pemberley?” Darcy asked in surprise.

“Of course,” John said airily, waving a hand. “My bachelor quarters are hardly sufficient for the three of us. You’re the one with the estates, the money, and the need for heirs. I’m perfectly content being the secret husband as long as Lizzy is my wife.”

_ His _ wife. Cold reality slowed his elated heart beats. Could he do this? Could he share Elizabeth with another man? See her smile at John, knowing that she loved him, that she shared his bed? Self-doubt crept in. While Darcy tried his best to be a good man, he knew he wasn’t skilled in the arts of pleasing. He could not smile easily and flirt like John did, nor did he have any experience with which to gratify in the bed chamber. He would be doomed to play second fiddle in Elizabeth’s heart and mind.

And yet… She loved him. Loved him enough that she did not choose John over him,  _ could not _ choose one or the other. He remembered the way she looked at him when they met at Pemberley, when he said he still loved her. She had smiled, a smile unlike any he had seen before, and her eyes had lit up with joy. The warmth of that smile melted away his doubts. He loved her - there was nothing he would not do for her happiness. Even if it meant sharing her with his cousin.

Darcy looked at John, who still thrummed with happy energy. “You truly think you would be content as the ‘secret husband’ as you call it?” Darcy asked. “To have no acknowledged heirs? To have to hide your affections from the world? Your family will certainly have something to say when - as far as they know - you never marry.”

John waved that one away. “I’ll let them think I’m content with my mistress. With the earldom secure, neither of my parents are overly concerned about my bachelor state, anyway.”

“You are going to keep your mistress?” Darcy asked, aghast. Their situation may be unconventional, but adultery was still adultery, no matter what the rest of the ton thought.

“What if I did?” John retorted, smirking. “You can hardly expect an innocent maiden to sate the appetites of two men in their prime.”

Darcy gaped, speechless. John could not genuinely love Elizabeth if he could talk of marrying her and maintaining his mistress in the same breath.

“Oh calm yourself! I dismissed Rosie way back in April, and have not availed myself of a single whore or lonely widow since, no matter how much I wanted to. It didn’t feel right. Love!” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. Still, a small smile curved his lips.

Darcy smiled, too. They were both fools in love. “Are you sure, John?”

“Yes. You?”

“I am. As long as it’s what Elizabeth wants.”

“What will that make us? Brother-husbands?”

“Certainly not!” A pause. “Although I have always wanted a brother.”

“Brothers, then.” John grinned as he held out his hand, and Darcy felt a smile lift his cheeks as he took it.


	4. Barren

March 1816

Darcy glanced over at Elizabeth again. She was uncharacteristically somber as she sat on the settee, eyes on the pages of the book on her lap. Darcy was sure she hadn’t turned a page in nearly half an hour. “Elizabeth?”

“Leave her be, Darce,” John said when Elizabeth gave no sign of having heard him. “She’s obviously contemplating matters above the comprehension of us mere mortals. Your move.”

Darcy returned his gaze to the chessboard, where John had been taking advantage of his distraction; there was no chance of winning now. “Aren’t you worried? It isn’t like her to be so morose.”

“Everyone is entitled to be sad from time to time. Even Lizzy. She’ll talk to us about it when she’s ready.” 

Darcy ignored him, moving to sit next to his wife. “Elizabeth?” he asked again, touching her hand.

“Do you believe in God, Fitz?” 

“You know I do.”

“And the Bible? The ten commandments?”

“Yes…”

“Have you actually read the Bible, Fitz?” John interjected from where he still sat by the chess board. “There’s some pretty wild stuff in there.”

“Perhaps not the whole thing, but enough to know the major plot points. What’s going on, Elizabeth? Are you doubting your faith?”

“No. I almost wish I were. This would be much easier if I thought religion was a bunch of superstitious nonsense like you, John.”

“I believe in God,” John said, coming to sit by them. “And in right and wrong, goodness and evil. It’s the Church I take issue with.”

“What would be easier if you didn’t believe, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked, though he feared he knew her answer already.

“I thought I had accepted our situation, decided that what brought us so much happiness could not be wrong.” She paused. Darcy remembered their conversations well; the morality of their unconventional situation had been a topic frequently canvassed in the first months of their union. “Barrenness is a punishment from God for sin. I cannot ignore it any longer.”

“You are not barren!” John exclaimed.

“You think not?” Elizabeth jumped to her feet, eyes blazing. “Then where is my child? It’s been more than _three_ _years_! I must accept the consequence of my actions.” She dropped back to her seat, eyes closed in pain. “I am a fallen woman.”

“No!” John was kneeling before her in an instant, clasping her hands in his, while Darcy was frozen in horror. How could Elizabeth think such a thing? She was the best woman he had ever met. Kind, generous, full of love, loyal...he could go on for hours. She did have a point, however; the Church, and the Bible, were both clear that a woman should have only one husband at a time. Was it possible that she was right? That she was being punished? But what of all the gilded ladies of the ton? Not only were they often insincere and spiteful, he was not blind to how frequently they were involved in adultery. Yet they managed to produce heirs aplenty. It couldn’t be about sin, then. Could it - 

“Darcy!” Darcy started at John’s sharp voice. “If you’re only going to glare, please do it somewhere else. You’re upsetting Lizzy.” 

John had his arms around her, rubbing her back soothingly. She looked up at Darcy imploringly, her brown eyes glistening. “You agree with me, don’t you?”

“No dearest, of course not.” How long had he been lost in thought, leaving Elizabeth to believe the worst? “What do you think of the ton?”

“They have very little depth to them, as a whole. Why?”

“The Bible says God is no respecter of persons; He doesn’t distinguish by rank. I imagine you’re aware of the intrigues and seductions that go on amongst them? There’s plenty of adultery to be found there, and yet most of them manage to produce children. If God were to punish infidelity with barrenness, wouldn’t the ladies of the ton be subject to it also?”

“I...I suppose so.”

“Elizabeth, we can count it as a blessing that you didn’t become with child quickly. What kind of father could I have been, when I was filled with jealousy every time you smiled at John?”

“And I wanted to plant you a facer every time you touched her,” John added

“Now, however, we have settled in, gotten used to each other, and will have much to give our child when he arrives. I can teach him responsibility; how to run the estate.”

“And  _ I’ll _ teach him how to fight. And how to have a little fun.” 

Elizabeth looked thoughtful, and this time Darcy was content to let her think in peace. “Rematch, John?”

Later that evening, the three of them relaxed by the fire. Darcy was starting to feel sleepy when his wife’s voice jolted him awake.

“I want to thank you both for your words of comfort earlier today. Are you truly as unconcerned as you appear about my childless state?”

“Of course!” John cried at once. “I’d love to be a father...or whatever it is I’ll be…” he frowned for a moment, before pasting on a smile and resuming. “There’s plenty of time for that. You’re still young. We can revisit the topic in another decade or two.”

Elizabeth smiled a little at John’s attempt at levity, but Darcy could tell she wasn’t taken in by it. She turned to him, a question in her eyes, silently urging him to be more forthcoming. 

“I cannot pretend I am not surprised that our nursery is still empty,” he said at last. “But as I said earlier, the three of us needed this time to acclimate and grow comfortable with our unique relationship. Now that we have, however, I admit that I am very much looking forward to being a father. If we are never blessed with children, it will  _ not _ be a punishment - are we not happy as a trio? I suppose...I’m sure one of Georgiana’s children will be pleased to inherit the prize of Pemberley, if it comes to that.”

“Thank you, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know you have always wished for a son to inherit Pemberley.”

“I have, but if it came at the cost of not having you as my wife, Elizabeth, and you as my brother, John, it would not be worth it. I would rather have the two of you than any number of sons.”

“Ahem. I thought you were supposed to be the haughty and distant one while  _ I _ was the one good at expressing feelings.” John’s attempt to look offended was ruined by a suspicious moisture in his eyes.

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me, Brother.” Darcy grinned.

Elizabeth laughed at their exchange. “It’s impossible to remain unhappy for long with you two around.”


	5. Flashback #2: Jealousy

January 1813

Elizabeth gave John a hard shove back, quickly turning away to a window to give herself a moment to regain her composure. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears, and she felt sick.

“Forgive me, Madam,” their London butler began.

“Weren’t you told to knock before entering, White?” John interrupted harshly.

Lizzy, still facing the window, closed her eyes. With his red lips and breath still coming a little quickly, he had as good as announced what they had been doing. Only six weeks into their marriage, what had started as light-hearted teasing had swiftly become more passionate. They should have been more cautious. The Pemberley staff had soon learned the new rules - never enter a bedchamber unless summoned and always knock before entering a room being the most important - but they had only come to Town yesterday, and the servants here were still adjusting. 

“I...I h-humbly apologise,” the butler stuttered, his face pale.

“There is no need, Mr White,” Lizzy turned with what she hoped was a calm smile. How much had he seen? “You needed something?”

“Ah, yes, Mistress. You have callers.” He bowed precisely, presenting her a silver tray of calling cards.

Elizabeth glanced over them; she only recognised a few of the names. So many ladies were eager to meet the new Mrs Darcy. “Thank you, Mr White. Take them to the blue room, please. I shall be down presently.”

“Very good Ma’am.”

“I’ll come with you,” John said when the door shut. “It’s always best to have support when facing the jealous cats of the ton.”

“John,” Lizzy closed her eyes and rubbed her temples where a headache was forming. “Don’t you know you nearly gave everything away? White certainly suspects something now, if he doesn’t know it for a fact. We should not be seen alone together for several days at least. Perhaps even weeks.”

“No!” He was at her side in an instant, his voice low yet intense. “You came to Town so we would not be separated when my leave ended!”

“Would you rather our relationship became the subject of gossip? We will often be together with Fitz and Georgie, and we will still have our nights.  _ Please  _ John. Don’t expose us.”

He glared unhappily at the filigree wallpaper, his hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically. “I don’t like this,” he said at last, resignation heavy in his voice. “I should be able to kiss my wife whenever I please! To tell you how much I adore you without worrying who might overhear! How can I be a proper husband when I cannot show you how I feel?”

Elizabeth stroked his cheek, still silky smooth after his morning shave, and smiled sympathetically. “I know it is difficult, my love. Am I not facing the same challenges? I wish I could hold your hand and say I love you all through the day. But it is not to be. Now, I’m sure you have duties you’re neglecting to attend to me. Go, and I will see you this evening.”

  
  


“Ah! Here it is!” Darcy pulled the requested list from the stack of papers with a flourish. His secretary had organised his desk only that morning but somehow it had become cluttered again. Lizzy watched him, her brown eyes shining with amusement. Feeling mischievous, he pulled the list out of reach just as she grasped for it.

“Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth warned, making him laugh. He held the paper higher, making her move closer to him in her attempts to wrest it from him. And then, as she stood on her toes next to him, face upturned as she stretched just a little more, he had only to lean down slightly to kiss her irritated lips.

“Is that what you were after?” she asked when he pulled back, grinning. “There are much easier ways to get a kiss.”

“Perhaps, but not all of them are this fun.”

“Hmph, fun for  _ you _ .” 

Darcy laughed, and kissed her again. Despite her annoyance, she returned it readily, and soon all thoughts of the investments he had been reviewing were replaced by desire. They had been married for two months and he still could not get enough of her. Technically this was John’s day to enjoy Elizabeth’s favours, but John was at the barracks, and could not indulge in daytime liaisons in any case. They had heard not even a whisper since John’s slipup a fortnight previous...Darcy’s blood boiled at the thought of John’s hands on his beloved Elizabeth.

“What, here?” she asked breathlessly, as he lifted her to sit on his desk and stood between her legs.

“Mmm.” He was too much in the grip of his passion to form coherent thought; he was consumed by his need for her, his need to possess her. Pulling her skirts up, his fingers quested for the smooth skin above her stockings, but when he found it, all desire drained from him, and an entirely new emotion filled him: jealousy. There, on the smooth white skin of her thigh, was a love bite.

He sank into his chair, his breath coming in gasps as he tried to get himself under control. Why must John insist on leaving these messages for him? ‘I was here.’ He  _ knew _ John had been there! He wished he could forget! He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes in a vain attempt to blot out the image of his wife and his cousin in an amorous embrace. He wished that John had been unable to obtain leave for that visit to Kent nearly a year ago, or at least that he were not so charming. He wished that Elizabeth loved only  _ him _ .

“Fitzwilliam, what’s wrong?”

He removed his hands to find Elizabeth kneeling before him, her eyes full of loving concern. “You love him.” His voice came out as a croak.

“Yes,” she smiled softly. “As I love you.”

He couldn’t help but smile back at the earnestness of her simple words. She loved him. Taking a deep breath, he straightened in his seat. “Forgive me, my love. It is more difficult to tame the jealous beast in me than I had hoped.”

She nodded in understanding. “How can I help?”

“I don’t think you can. You are already in a tough spot between two strong-willed men. This is something I’ll have to work through on my own. Although,” he added with a tight smile, “if you see John sporting a shiner, don’t coo over him too much.”

  
  


The situation came to a head a few weeks later when Georgiana left to stay with relatives for a month. The gentlemen, who had striven to hide the rising tension between them from the young girl, started making biting remarks at the other nearly the moment her carriage was out of sight. Within a few days they had escalated to outright hostility, and Elizabeth was at her wit’s end trying to keep the peace. Repeatedly, she begged them to be civil, with little result - until her distress turned to anger. Were they children, that instead of talking over their problems and solving them sensibly, they instead resorted to mean-spirited name calling and put downs?

One frosty evening, Elizabeth was sewing baby clothes for the poor box while her husbands played chess. John was smugly recounting the many instances his cousin had caused awkwardness or offence amoungst their acquaintances in the past, while Fitzwilliam was looking increasingly embarrassed and angry.

“I have decided to go visit Jane,” she announced suddenly. The men turned to her in surprise. “With Georgie gone, I find myself missing female companionship. I leave in the morning.”

“What!?”

“Why did you wait so long to tell us?”

“No doubt she wants to go where better conversation can be found. I cannot blame her for  _ that _ , although  _ my _ skills have never been found wanting.”

“I do not excel at the pretty nothings of which you are so fond, as I have bent my mind toward more worthwhile pursuits.”

“Worthwhile you call it? You mean  _ boring _ . I can both entertain the ladies and plan a military campaign. You research sheep dung.” John’s voice was laden with contempt.

“It is an important fertilizer! Did you know it can increase productivity by -”

“It’s  _ dung _ , Darcy. Important, perhaps, but no one wants to hear about it.”

“Yes, the worthless ladies of the ton love to hear the pack of lies you tell.  _ Elizabeth _ likes substance. She was very interested -”

“She loves my stories! I bet she was only feigning interest, Dung. Yes, that suits you. From now on -”

Elizabeth left the room. The constant bickering of the two people she loved most in the world made her feel ill. And it was her fault. Her selfishness caused this. If she had chosen only one husband, as she should have, Fitzwilliam and John would still be the good friends they had been before they met her. There would likely have been some awkwardness when they met at first, but that could have been overcome. Their current animosity, however…

Sighing, she alerted her maid and the housekeeper of her travel plans, and quickly penned an express to let Jane know to expect her. Jane, sweet woman that she was, would only be pleased with the news and not mind the last minute guest in the least. She was in her private sitting room, reading a novel in an attempt to distract herself, when the gentlemen found her.

“Here you are darling!” John exclaimed, claiming the seat next to her and taking her hand. Fitzwilliam, looking disgruntled, sat across from them. “Why did you leave us? Did some calamity befall Taylor in the kitchens?”

Reclaiming her hand, Lizzy turned to him in surprise. “Can you really not account for it?”

John’s brow furrowed as he thought back.

“We were quarrelling horribly.” Fitzwilliam said, shaking his head. “Forgive me, Elizabeth, for subjecting you to my ill humour.”

“And what of John?”

“I most humbly beg your forgiveness, my Lady.” John executed a credible bow while remaining seated.

“You misunderstand me,” she said, her expression softening just a little. “It is not I who should be receiving your apologies.” The two men looked at each other, frowned, and looked away. Lizzy sighed again. “This is why I go tomorrow to visit my sister. I cannot bear to see your ill-will for each other.”

Looking suitably chastened, Fitzwilliam asked, “How long will you go?”

“I cannot say. When you two are ready to act like the gentlemen you are, let me know and I will return. I pray it will not be too long.”

  
  


Elizabeth was overjoyed to see Jane again. The nearly three months since they had last been in each other’s company had seen much change for both of them, and they could not be expected to share everything they wished through the dry medium of letter-writing. On the way to her rooms, they met Miss Bingley on the stairs.

“Ah, Miss Eliza!” the lady said with a false smile. “How lovely to see you!”

Drat. She had forgotten Miss Bingley was staying with her brother in her mad dash from Town. Conjuring up an equally false smile, she replied, “And you, Miss Bingley! It looks like the fresh air of Hertfordshire agrees with you.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you chose to come  _ here _ over all the entertainments available in Town.”

“My sister’s company is worth more than any number of balls and musical evenings.”

“Yes, dear Jane is a gem.” Miss Bingley’s smile was starting to look a little strained.

“Would you like to rest, Lizzy?” Jane asked once they attained the privacy of her room.

“Oh no! I have dearly missed our chats these last months. I see your Mr Bingley must be treating you well - you look radiant!” Indeed, Jane seemed almost to glow with happiness.

Jane took her hands and pulled her to sit beside her on the cream bedspread. “Oh Lizzy! I cannot wait to tell you any longer - I am to be a mother! I am so very happy! Only you mustn’t say anything, for we haven’t told anyone yet, only Charles and now you know.”

Elizabeth’s congratulations were everything that was heartfelt and sincere. Jane’s patience and cheerful temper would make her a wonderful mother. Lizzy eagerly questioned her - when was she expected to deliver? In five or six months. How was her health? Very well, she was only a little tired in the evenings. Would it be a girl or a boy? Jane laughed at that one, saying she could not possibly tell as the babe had yet to even quicken.

Jane was called away to deal with a misunderstanding of the dinner menu, and Lizzy flopped back on the bed, a smile stretching her cheeks. Jane was with child! She hoped her own turn would come soon - Jane had been married longer, so it made sense she would experience motherhood before her - but she prayed she wouldn’t have to wait too long. A few weeks previously she had visited one of her aunt’s friends and had been privileged to hold that lady’s new-born daughter - her heart ached as she remembered the weight of the tiny babe in her arms. She longed for her own children; tiny beings to play with and care for and love. 

Before that could happen, however, she needed her husbands to repair their friendship. Lizzy’s smile slid off her face, and she rolled over onto her stomach, resting her forehead on her arms. Her guilt returned in full force, threatening to crush her. Why had she so selfishly refused to choose one husband? Why had she accepted their outrageous idea to marry them both? Was leaving them to themselves and escaping to Netherfield a good idea? She had thought so at the time, hoping that they could resolve their differences without her presence stirring up their rivalry, but now it looked more like cowardice. Unable to face the result of her poor choices, she had run away.

Lost in guilt and grief, Lizzy didn’t note the time passing until her maid came to help her dress for dinner. Mitchum didn’t say anything when she saw her mistress’s red puffy eyes and splotchy cheeks, only handed her a cold compress and told her the bath was ready. Elizabeth smiled gratefully. She liked Mitchum, who, though she didn’t talk a lot, was full of good sense and good humour, and could do wonders with Lizzy’s hair. She also had an uncanny ability to pick the exact gown to fit her mistress’s mood - this evening Lizzy found a subdued deep green gown waiting for her after her bath.

While she was with the others she was able to push her troubles to the back of her mind, for Bingley and Jane were both in high spirits, and even Miss Bingley, determined to retain visiting rights to Pemberley, restrained her usual barbs and was friendly.

The nights were the hardest. Elizabeth, unaccustomed to sleeping alone, tossed and turned and fretted long into the night. She missed Fitzwilliam and John intensely. She missed their conversations, both teasing and serious; she ached for the feel of their arms around her. Most of all she wished for the joyful days early in their marriage, before guilt and jealousy had reared their ugly heads, when the three of them were happy to simply be together.

On her fourth day at Netherfield, Lizzy decided to stop hiding and return to her husbands. They were bound together now, for better or worse, and it was unfair of her to put the burden of resolution on the gentlemen. Surely there was some way she could use her influence to aid in reconciliation and togetherness rather than pull them apart. She had to try. She would return to Town that very afternoon, and instructed Mitchum to pack her belongings.

Going down to breakfast, she was surprised - and pleased - to see a letter waiting for her, addressed in Fitzwilliam’s hand.

_ Dearest Elizabeth _ , it read,  _ John and I are collaborating on the composition of this letter as a show of our determination to move past our differences. _ Then, in a different hand,  _ While he’s used as many words of at least four syllables as possible, it is the truth. We give our pledge that henceforth we will not seek to degrade or belittle the other and instead work in favour of your happiness.  _ Darcy again:  _ We will be pleased to discuss this subject with you in full when we are all together once more. We humbly request your return at your earliest convenience. _

“Good news?”

Elizabeth started at the sound of Miss Bingley’s voice, and hastily folded her letter. She couldn’t hide her happy smile, however, nor did she bother trying. “Good morning, Miss Bingley. My husband writes to hurry my return to him.”

“You have barely arrived at Netherfield, and he already commands you to return! Mr Smith will not dare to seek to control  _ my _ activities _ , _ when we are married.”

“As you know, Mr Darcy and I married for affection. He misses me, and  _ asks _ that I go to him. I am happy to comply, as I had already decided to go to Town today.”

“Already?” Jane asked, taking a seat at her side.

“I ought not to have left at all.”

Jane lowered her voice so Caroline, who was filling her plate on the other side of the room, couldn’t hear. “Will you not tell me what troubles you, Lizzy?”

This was the first time Jane had asked; it wasn’t in her nature to push for confidences. Elizabeth wished she could share the whole with her sister - Jane’s gentle wisdom would be a great benefit - but no, she wouldn’t be able to understand. Jane, who was all goodness herself and believed Lizzy to be the same, would be horrified to know she had married two men. The knowledge that Elizabeth enjoyed relations with both of them would shock her perhaps beyond recovery. “I’m sorry,” she whispered back, “but it involves that which is not mine to share.”

“I understand.” Jane smiled kindly, resting a soft hand on her arm, before turning to Caroline and asking after her plans for the day.

  
  


“Do you think she’ll forgive us?” Darcy asked, not for the first time, as he strode across the room.

“Of course she will,” John replied, not bothering to look up from his book. “And stop pacing! It’s impossible to concentrate with you stomping up and down the room.” Truth be told, he had been on the point of giving up his attempt to distract himself with a book when Darcy had joined him, after which he was grateful for the facade of calm it gave him in counterpoint to his cousin’s obvious anxiety.

“I’m sorry,” Darcy said, stopping in front of a little table and fingering a porcelain figure of a woman dancing on it. It was one of Lizzy’s favourites. “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

“Yes.” John still kept his gaze on the page before him, lest Darcy see he was far from as confident as he let on. Despite him and Lizzy having exchanged holy vows, their union was a secret from the world; if his behavior was beyond what she could forgive, she could exclude him from her life without fear of gossip or scandal. He was here at her - and Darcy’s - pleasure. Aggravating Darcy had not only been immature and ungentlemanly, but stupid. He needed Lizzy to forgive him far more than Darcy did.

Darcy let out a low breath of displeasure and slumped into a chair, and, wincing, rubbed his ribs. John snickered. 

“You’ve always been better with women than I. No doubt you’ve been in a similar situation a dozen times before and once more doesn’t faze you in the least.”

John bit back the ungenerous retort that sprang to his lips. Lizzy may not be back yet to see his efforts, but he had given his word to treat her other husband with respect. “In this instance, I have no more experience than you. Lizzy is the only woman I have ever loved, the only one that makes me want to better myself. I am merely more adept at hiding my nerves than you are. A side effect of my military service, perhaps.”

“Elizabeth will have received our letter this morning,” Darcy mused, rubbing a hand over his chin. “She  _ could _ be arriving any moment, if she chose...but tomorrow is much more likely. Bingley eats breakfast at nine, so she could be on the road by ten...it takes just over an hour to get to…”

Shaking his head fondly, John returned to staring blankly at the book on his lap, one finger idly ruffling the corner of the page. Would Lizzy come back tomorrow? Or would she stay longer with the Bingleys as a reminder that she held the upper hand? No, she didn’t play the games that were so popular amongst the elite. She was refreshingly earnest and straightforward, it was one of the things he loved about her. If he knew her - and he liked to think he knew her very well - she would be champing at the bit to come home. In fact - his ears perked at the sound of voices in the hall, and moments later Lizzy entered the room, her happy smile dimming as she took in the two of them.

“What happened?” she cried out in dismay.

John was at her side in a moment, repressing a grimace of pain at the movement. His whole body ached. “How are the Bingleys, Lizzy? Did you enjoy your visit?”

Lizzy frowned briefly at him before turning to Darcy. John sighed - Darcy seemed incapable of telling anything other than the whole truth when it came to their wife.

“As we said in our letter, John and I have resolved our differences.” Darcy hesitated as he crossed the room, glancing quickly at John. “We, er, may not have used methods of which you would approve to reach said resolution.”

“You  _ beat _ each other?” Reaching out a slender hand, she held each of their chins in a firm grip, twisting their faces to best see the bruises that marred their skin. Her beautiful eyes filled with pain, and John was glad she couldn’t see the worst of the marks.

“Think of it as a boxing match, my love,” John soothed, patting her shoulder. “A noble way gentlemen have solved their problems for centuries. We’re even taught proper technique at school.”

“I see now why my uncle refers to boys at school as ‘little savages.’” Her lips tilted in a half smile, although he could tell she was still skeptical. “But it worked? You two are friends again?”

John and Darcy shared a look, then Darcy said, “It will take time for us to get back to where we were, but we’re ready to put in the work. I give you my word that we will not again descend into petty rivalry, nor will we provoke or foster ill feelings for each other. We were a little naive in the beginning, but our eyes are wide open now, and we are willing to do whatever is necessary to make our union, however unusual it may be, a happy one.”

Lizzy took Darcy’s hand, smiling tearfully up at him, and turned to John. He nodded gravely, wordlessly letting her know he agreed with his cousin’s words. Her smile widened and she pulled them both into a tight embrace. “I missed you both so much while I was away! I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t cleared this up on your own.”

John laughed, even though his bruises were complaining at his wife’s arms around him. “You would knock our heads together and scold us back into harmony!”

Lizzy and Darcy laughed, too, much harder than his jest deserved, until the last fortnight of tension had dissolved away into tears of mirth running down the trio’s cheeks.


	6. John has a Bad Day

April 1816

John swore as he picked himself up from the soggy grass, wincing and trying not to move his arm too much. “Blasted horse,” he muttered. “Doesn’t even know a gopher hole until half his leg is stuck in one.”

He began the long trek back to the house on foot, holding the reins with his good arm as the unfortunate animal hobbled alongside him. They hadn’t made it far when the clouds overhead opened in a steady, drenching rain that had him soaked through in minutes.

The day had started out poorly, and was rapidly getting worse.

He had woken alone in a cold bed. His valet was sick, and his substitute was a bumbling fool who made him wait, shivering, while he first sent for a fire to be laid, then for hot water for his bath. Darcy was absent from breakfast, having been called away to deal with some minor flooding at the creek, and Lizzy left in a hurry after only a few bites when she was informed one of the tenant women was in labour. Alone in the echoing manor, John had tried his hand first at billiards, where he crushed his finger between two balls, then reading (the author seemed to be mocking him), and correspondence, but his pen kept breaking. He felt so bloody  _ useless _ . Darcy and Lizzy were off doing important tasks, and he was stuck wandering the house, cold and bored.

Eventually he decided to ride out and join Darcy in his efforts. He didn’t have any experience with flooding, but perhaps he could still be helpful. But in keeping with the tenor of the day, on his way his horse had stumbled into a gopher hole and thrown him. He was pretty sure his shoulder was dislocated.

His boots squelched in the mud with every painful step. How much farther to the house? This was as bad as his last stint on the Continent: injured, miles from aid. At least then it hadn’t been raining.

“John!” John turned to see the hazy form of Darcy through the curtain of rain. “What happened?” he asked, pulling up in a spray of water and mud.

“Got thrown.” No need to go into the details.

“Can you ride?”

“My horse is lame.”

“Don’t be obtuse,” Darcy grinned, holding out his arm. “It’s not becoming on you.”

John grinned back. Darcy might not know what to say around strangers, but he always managed to say just the right thing to  _ him _ . Around him, John felt important, included, happy. Grasping Darcy’s forearm firmly with his good hand, he heaved himself up behind Darcy on his horse, only containing his groans and choice words with effort.

The doctor, after popping John’s shoulder back into its proper place, insisted he refrain from using the arm for several days at least. John grumbled in protest. Not being able to use his dominant hand would mean no riding, no billiards, no fisticuffs, no letter-writing, no fencing...in short, nearly every activity he enjoyed was off limits to him.

What was next? Would he fall down the stairs and break his leg? Take ill from something he ate? Or perhaps the Almighty would hurl lightning at him if he ventured outside!

His mood continued to sour as the evening progressed. Lizzy was still absent, and while Darcy strove mightily to entertain him, John was too irritable to be distracted from his misery.

“I need to rejoin my regiment,” he said abruptly, startling Darcy, who had given up on him some time ago.

“Your shoulder?” Darcy asked quietly.

John shrugged, holding back a wince at the movement. “As the doctor said, it will mend in a few days. My old wounds are also healed. I am fit for duty.”

Darcy regarded him silently, and John felt himself grow uncomfortable under his cousin’s probing gaze. “I’m a man of action, Darcy,” he pleaded. “I can’t stay here, wandering the hallways uselessly, waiting for crumbs of attention from you and Lizzy.”

“Run Pemberley with me,” Darcy replied seriously, seeing the problem at once. It was a testament of John’s affection for them that he had stayed as long as he had.

“I know nothing of running an estate, and before you say you will teach me -” Darcy sat back and closed his mouth, “-it would never work. We would continually be in each other’s way. An estate can have only one master.”

“And a wife can have only one husband,” Darcy said, raising an eyebrow.

“Point taken. In truth, Darcy, I have no desire to help you run Pemberley, and I don’t know how else to be useful in the long term.”

Darcy rubbed his knuckles against his lips, brow furrowed in thought. “I shall think on this further,” he said at last. “There is an occupation for you here, I am sure of it.”

John was doubtful, but remained silent. If there was a way for him to stay without going mad from idleness...his heart thumped faster in his chest at the thought of spending more than a few months a year with Darcy and Lizzy. Of days filled with purpose,while still being able to be with the two he loved most. Of quiet conversations and heated arguments, of peaceful evenings and passionate nights.

When Elizabeth still hadn’t returned by midnight, John retired to his room to brood alone, his brief flicker of hope extinguished. He was doomed to die on the battlefield, far from his loved ones. They wouldn’t mourn him for long - they would find comfort together. He felt a pang of guilt at this disloyal thought - he knew they three shared an attachment that was deep and sincere - but forged ahead with his maudlin imaginings. Darcy and Lizzy would be blissfully happy without him in the picture - no more guilt over her perceived adultery, no more having to share attention and favours, no more constant worry over what would happen if they were found out. The scandal would be horrendous, he was sure. Who ever heard of a gentleman happily sharing his wife with another? It would taint everyone connected with them - good thing Georgiana had married well. But what would become of Lizzy’s children, if she had any? In the darkness of his room John began to give credence to Lizzy’s fears - that she couldn’t have children as long as she shared herself with anyone other than the husband the world recognised. Yet another benefit to his removal: Lizzy and Darcy would be blessed with the children they wanted so dearly. 

Perhaps he should do more than just return to his regiment. If he were to meet a deadly accident on the training field, or fall in battle, it would bring so much happiness to those he loved. Not immediately, of course, they would grieve him for a little before moving on with their lives, when they could truly be happy.

What was his life worth, anyway? He did his duty to the king, defending their empire against threats both within and without the country, but one soldier one way or another did not make a difference. He loved Lizzy and Darcy, and they him, but they would be happier without him. His parents didn’t need him either - he was a third son, both his brothers had sons - the earldom was secure.

John knew a moment of doubt when he remembered his wedding day. Lizzy’s eyes had shone with love and joy as she said her vows, as the clergyman pronounced them wed. He heard her say she loved him, again and again over the years of their union, felt her smooth skin under his fingers, smelled the floral fragrance of her hair. The thought of a final parting between them lanced through him painfully, sharper than the bayonet that had skewered him six months previously. Leaving Darcy would be fully as agonising: the two men had developed a friendship stronger than any John had ever heard of.

He could leave them, could die, if it made them happy, couldn’t he?

  
  


Darcy slept poorly, half an ear open for the sound of his wife returning, his mind busy with the conundrum John had presented him. He rose blearily at his usual hour, ridiculously grateful when his valet brought him a cup of coffee. Slightly more alert, he went down to breakfast, where John greeted him, dark shadows under his eyes testament to a similarly restless night. Darcy watched him surreptitiously while they ate. There was something off about him - more than could be explained by a lack of sleep, more than his melancholy of the previous day. John had an intensity about him, detectable even in the mundane task of eating breakfast. Perhaps he had decided on a vocation?

“John,” Darcy started, when he was interrupted by the door opening. It was Elizabeth. She looked tired enough to fall asleep where she stood, but her eyes glowed with happiness.

“It’s a girl,” she said. “The most beautiful baby girl I have ever seen.” Elizabeth looked down at her hands, as if wishing the baby were still in them. Her eyes fluttered and she teetered - he and John were at her side in an instant, half carrying her to a seat.

“Poor girl,” John murmured, stroking the hand he held. “Have you had any rest since you left yesterday?”

Elizabeth smiled wearily. “It was for a good cause. Mrs Bryne is thrilled with her new daughter.”

“As she should be after all those boys of hers.” Darcy smiled fondly. Brynes had farmed Darcy land for generations; the current Mr Bryne was only five years his senior - they had often played together as children.

“We’re losing her,” John said quietly, nodding his head toward where Elizabeth’s eyelids had drifted shut again. “You should take her up to bed.”

Darcy scooped his wife into his arms despite her sleepy protests, carrying her down the wide corridors toward her rooms. 

John followed in their wake, tugged helplessly along as if they were tied together. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, not when their remaining days together were so few. Darcy shot him a sharp glance when he followed them into the mistress’s chambers - he knew he shouldn’t enter them so obviously - but he only shrugged and said, “No one saw me.”

Sitting on the bed next to Lizzy, he watched her as she breathed the slow, deep breaths of sleep. His eyes traced over her familiar features: the dark brows, her upturned nose, the small mole by her left ear. Was it selfish of him to want to stay by her side forever?

He looked up to see Darcy still standing by the bed, watching him with a disturbingly perceptive gaze. Darcy’s face was no less dear to him than Lizzy’s. Could he leave them?

“You’re not going to do anything... _ stupid _ , are you?” Darcy asked harshly.

“You know me, I do stupid things all the time.”

Darcy half smiled, though his eyes were still serious. “You’re being obtuse again.”

“Lizzy wants children,” he said, pleading, “and you need an heir.”

“So you’re going to...to  _ off _ yourself and that will somehow make a child appear?”

“No!” Lizzy gasped, staring up at him in horror. How long had she been awake? John glared at Darcy before smoothing back Lizzy’s hair in a vain attempt to calm her.

“Well?” Darcy demanded.

“I…You two shouldn’t be punished for my presence.” What had seemed reasonable alone in the middle of the night suddenly sounded absurd, with the sun shining and the two people he loved most next to him.

“ _ You _ ,” Lizzy said fiercely, sitting up and stabbing a finger painfully into his chest, “are the one that said I shouldn’t believe such nonsense!”

“I...um…”

“Where is your intellect?” Darcy demanded. “How could you even  _ consider _ a step as drastic as  _ ending your life _ with no basis of fact?”

“Are you so unhappy, John?” Lizzy looked at him forlornly, and his heart ached at the pain he heard in her voice.

“Lizzy…” He pulled her into his arms, squeezing her tightly to him. He didn’t know how to explain it to her. John looked over Lizzy’s shoulder to Darcy in a silent appeal for help, but Darcy firmly shook his head. “I was an idiot. I had a...a bad day, and…” he shrugged helplessly.

“Hmm, yes, you tend toward the overly dramatic when you’re at loose ends,” Lizzy said, twisting a lock of hair around her fingers in thought. “We’ll have to make sure you’re kept occupied, then, won’t we?”

John smiled, pleased (and relieved) that rather than focusing on his foolishness, Lizzy instead was determined to find a solution. “Darcy and I were discussing this very topic just yesterday. What did you come up with, Darce?”

  
  


Darcy sighed and sat on the bed next to the other two. “Not much, I’m afraid. There are any number of projects for which I could use a man of your talents, but they all fall under the purview of the master of Pemberley.”

Brow creased, John struggled to find what his brother had missed.

Lizzy looked back and forth between the two men, disbelief etched clearly on her features. As their silent contemplations continued, however, she shook her head and muttered something under breath that John didn’t quite catch. “John,” she finally said, “when did you start riding?”

“My father bought me my first pony when I was three, but I started riding double with him long before that.”

“And would you say you’re good at it?”

“Good at it!” John spluttered, offended. “I was a better rider than either of my older brothers by the time I was five! I am recognised and have been sought out throughout the kingdom for my extensive knowledge of horseflesh! With a snap of my fingers I could…” He trailed off as realisation hit. No wonder his wife smiled at him so - it  _ was _ rather obvious. “I could breed my own horses, train them properly. I wouldn’t be forced to buy substandard breeds at ridiculous prices and...but no. I don’t have the capital to start such a venture.” He shook his head, the pleasant dream fading.

“I will gladly -” Lizzy cut off what would no doubt have been a generous offer from Darcy with a raised hand.

“You would have all you need if you sold your commission,” she said quietly.

John gaped at her brilliance. It was a beautiful future, and all he had to do was say ‘yes.’ He looked at Lizzy’s face, at Darcy’s, and saw their love and hope for him in their eyes. It wasn’t just words, they whole-heartedly wanted him to stay with them always, and he desperately wanted to do so. Now was his chance. Straightening his back, he let his smile spread across his face, and said “I’m in.”


	7. Epilogue

March 1818

Early morning sun filtered dimly through the curtains, providing Darcy just enough light by which to make out his wife’s features as she lay beside him. She slept deeply, a small trickle of drool leaking from one corner of her mouth. He smiled fondly as he brushed a few stray curls from her cheek. Despite the cool air, warmth filled him to such an extent he was in danger of bursting into flame; he hadn’t known love could feel like this. Oh, he had  _ thought _ he knew love when he made his first, arrogant, ill-considered proposal to her - had thought that wanting her enough to offer her his hand despite his numerous objections to her situation meant he truly loved her. Thank Goodness Elizabeth herself was so worthy, so full of love (although not for him, not yet), and brave - brave enough to stand up to him and teach him the hard lesson of how to be a truly worthy gentleman. 

And now they - the three of them - shared happiness unlike anything he had ever experienced, or even imagined. Pemberley was flourishing under his and Elizabeth’s care, and John nearly glowed with satisfaction as the horses he bred and trained were highly sought after. Darcy’s hand drifted down to press gently against the slight roundness of Elizabeth’s belly, and his happiness, impossibly, increased even further. After five years of marriage they had given up hope, had resigned themselves to a childless future, and yet … Darcy softly rubbed his hand over the small bump again. “Hello little one,” he whispered. “I’m one of your papas. You are a lucky little chap, with two papas and a mama to love you. I daresay you will be spoiled rotten. I am eager to meet you, do you think you will be ready for the introduction soon?”

“I should hope not,” came Elizabeth’s amused voice, making Darcy jump in surprise. “The midwife says we have four or five months more at least.”

“Good morning,” he smiled playfully, wiping a bit of moisture from her chin. “I thought you might sleep all day!”

Elizabeth blushed bright red and ran her sleeve across her mouth. “You will not know this, but growing a child is an exceedingly fatiguing endeavor! And,” she raised her chin in challenge, “I see you are still abed, and have not my excuse!”

“ _ You _ are my excuse, Dearest,” he returned, leaning in for a lingering kiss.

“Mmm,” she murmured, then pulled away with a sigh of disappointment as her face took on a greenish tinge. “I’m afraid I cannot delay breaking my fast.”

“Perhaps not, but as you can see,” he pointed to a side table, “I took the liberty of ordering a tray for you while you still slept. Dry toast and eggs.” He grinned proudly. It wasn’t easy keeping up with Elizabeth’s ever-changing dietary preferences, but he was confident he had it right this time.

Settling the tray across her legs, Elizabeth returned his smile. “And what shall John think of us leaving him to eat alone? Or do you plan to join him?”

“He sent a note earlier - he has a horse foaling, and will be occupied for a few hours at least. He suggested we might appreciate a lazy morning in bed. He was correct - I am not at all hungry. Or at least not for food.”

Elizabeth giggled as he waggled his eyebrows at her. “You really have thought of everything. I don’t know why I should be surprised.”

“Indeed, my dear, you should not.” 

Elizabeth slowly chewed and swallowed a bite of egg, washing it down with tepid tea. “I  _ am _ glad,” she said, squeezing his arm affectionately. “With the planting, I have hardly seen you the last few weeks. Can I expect the honour of your company every morning now that your time is your own once more?”

“That is a privilege I am pleased to share with my brother.” Her eyebrow rose in silent question; John had always left her chambers early to avoid suspicion. “He and I devised some clever stratagems to allow him more time with you. He has sacrificed more than is fair to be with us. This child - “ he ran a gentle hand across her belly - “is as much his as mine, despite the name he will bear - it is past time I treated John as an equal third in our relationship, rather than a shameful secret. I will do all in my power to ensure his happiness - and yours.”

“You and John make me happier than I have any right to be,” she smiled at him, eyes brimming with emotion. “And I know John is more settled and content than even he had hoped, but what of you? Are you satisfied with our...arrangement?”

“Each year I think I could not possibly feel more satisfaction, and each year I am proven wrong as my capacity to experience joy increases ever more. We three...soon to be four... _ belong _ together.”

“We do.” Elizabeth brushed the last crumbs of toast from her fingers before putting the tray aside. “Now,” she turned to him with an impish smile. “Where were we before my breakfast interrupted?”

Darcy grinned, delighted that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. “Your stomach is settled? I would not wish to make you ill.”

“All better.”

He pulled his love tightly into his arms. “Then I believe we were right about…” he moved closer, until their lips were only a hair’s breadth apart. “...here.” He kissed her with all the passion that burned in him, sighing happily as she kissed him back with equal ardour. 


End file.
